


Just for Now

by linksofmemories



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fingerfucking, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Post Season 2, Rimming, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linksofmemories/pseuds/linksofmemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the bastard.</p><p>“You’re an asshole.”</p><p>“You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”</p><p>“It was to give me a chance to run.”</p><p>“How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just for Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of the auction pieces for the Sterek Campaign. [Aya](http://ayasleftfoot.tumblr.com/) bought a 5k fic, but of course I always have to go overboard, so I hope she likes this 8k fic.

It had taken Stiles a while to get over Lydia. And by "a while" he meant one month of trying to get her to hang out with him during the summer and failing miserably. Jackson’s family had moved and she had been in a bit of a slump (“bit” being an understatement), so Stiles had tried to jump in and take a chance. But the more he tried to woo her with flowers and jewelry, the more he realized that she just needed a shoulder to cry on and not a new guy in her life.

So, that happened. He had been 100% shot down and even though a part of him (albeit a ridiculously small and overly hopeful part) still held onto hope, he knew that it would never work between them. Scott of course had tried to encourage him that he should just ask her out, but Stiles had shook his head. He was starting to come to terms to being defeated and he had definitely been defeated in this case.

The 15 year plan had been tossed away and Stiles was now determined to focus on more important things, like training for lacrosse and worrying about the Alpha Pack that was making its way to Beacon Hills. Well, maybe more on the Alpha Pack. Of course it had been a month into summer break when Derek had appeared in his room and informed him of the Alpha Pack.

Which was, y’know, _just dandy_.

First Peter and Kate, then Matt and Gerard and the Kanima, and now an Alpha Pack? Couldn’t they just have some time of peace? Couldn’t Stiles maybe make first line for lacrosse and not lie to his dad and possibly get a girlfriend (or boyfriend, he wasn’t picky)?

Apparently not.

Scott had freaked out, but was still determined to keep the town safe. Stiles expected the pack to strike at any moment, but they hadn’t made a move. Things in Beacon Hills were actually peaceful for once. The peace felt unsettling due to the threat that was hanging above all of their heads, but it wasn’t exactly unwelcome.

Stiles got a summer job and played video games with Scott and slept until noon every day. It was almost identical to the summer before their sophomore year, and it was familiar and nice. The familiar routine didn’t stop him from lying in bed some nights just thinking about the Alpha Pack. What if they just came bursting into his house one night and took him and his dad away? Other than his dad’s gun (which was practically useless against werewolves), they didn’t have any protection. Nothing would keep a werewolf out of their house and their claws from ripping out Stiles’ organs.

Then he kept thinking about how the Alpha Pack was after all a pack and they probably lived by a code and Stiles was just a human. Stiles wasn’t a threat, they wouldn’t hurt him.

But finding Derek outside on the roof next to his window one night didn’t do anything to stop his worries.

He had just come out of the shower, already changed into his boxers and a t-shirt when he saw a dark figure outside of his window. Stiles had frozen, eyes trained on the window. He immediately thought about why any member of the Alpha Pack would be there; he repeated all of the reasons why they had no reason to be there.

None of it helped when his window was being slid open. Stiles grabbed his crosse that was leaning up against the wall next to his door, he knew that it wouldn’t do much good, but if it gave him some time to run then he would use it.

It wasn’t needed though because a dark-haired and stubbly leather jacket-clad non-stranger entered his room, courteously closing the window behind him.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the bastard.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”

“It was to give me a chance to run.”

“How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open, looking from Derek, to the crosse in his hands, and then back again. Attacking a stranger with adrenaline and survival on his mind was one thing, but attacking Derek with his smug smile was another thing entirely. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek would trip him or shove him up against a wall or do something to make him look like an idiot. But if he didn’t do anything then he would look like a coward.

Idiot or coward? Take your pick, Stilinski.

Idiot it was.

His hands tightened on the crosse and he glared down Derek who was just smirking like the smug asshole that he was. Stiles moved forward and it took all of two seconds for Derek to grab the crosse from his hands, twist it around Stiles' back, and press their chests together, Stiles’ back hitting the door. Derek’s mouth was open against his neck, fangs brushing against his skin.

“What are you gonna do?” Stiles asked. “Rip my throat out with your teeth? I feel like that’s getting kind of old.”

“I’ve said that one time,” Derek said.

“Feels repetitive.”

Derek rolled his eyes, moving away from Stiles and dropping the crosse on the ground next to him. “Ripping your throat out would still be effective though. Stiles, if you think someone is trying to come through your window you shouldn’t try to attack them, you should run.”

“I was going to run—.”

“Attempting an attack wouldn’t save you time, it would just get you killed.”

Stiles just stood there, back still pressed against the door, as Derek looked around Stiles’ room. He went to his desk, flipping through a few books and notebooks.

“If a werewolf was coming through my window and trying to attack me, running wouldn't do much good, it would just catch me."

“Good point,” Derek nodded.

He continued his silent browsing of Stiles’ room, skipping over his laptop (thank God) and heading to the shelving behind his bed. Stiles should’ve protested, but that was the common thing to do when someone had something to hide. And he didn’t have anything to hide from Derek; over time he finally accepted that having Derek’s trust was actually a good thing. It never hurt to have an Alpha werewolf on your side, even if they were going up against an entire pack of them.

“So, what do you propose I do?” Stiles asked.

“Do for what?”

“In case a werewolf does come through my window and attack me?”

Stiles was really starting to get tired of the silence and long waits for answers, but for once in his life he wasn’t going to push anything. He just watched as Derek looked at a picture of him and his mom and then their family on vacation to Disneyland when he had been six. Derek could relate to missing family, he wasn’t worried.

Well he wasn’t worried until Derek opened one of the drawers and his eyebrows shot up, a smirk came over Derek’s face as he held up a half-empty bottle of lube. He turned around, showing it to Stiles. “Lube and no condoms?”

Stiles walked quickly to his bed, lunging forward to grab the bottle from Derek’s grasp. Derek let him take it, smiling and shaking his head.

“Alpha pack, lacrosse, part-time job,” Stiles said, stuffing the bottle back into the drawer. “It’s all very stressful.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Stiles," Derek shrugged, a smirk still on his face. “I was a teenager too, believe it or not.”

“Not that long ago, right?”

“Just a few years,” Derek said.

Stiles expected him to continue looking through his room, but instead he just headed back toward the window. “I’ll think of a way to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“Wait, why’d you come here?” Stiles asked. “To shove me against a wall and snoop?”

“Something like that,” Derek said. “I’ll see you later, Stiles.”

And then he was gone, the window shutting swiftly behind him. Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair and sitting down on his bed. He really didn’t get Derek Hale.

**OoOoOoO**

A few days later Scott asked Stiles to come into work with him. Stiles had never been that close to Dr. Deaton, in fact he had only talked to him a handful of times, but Scott said that he wanted to see him specifically. Apparently he wanted to give him something and Scott couldn’t deliver it to him.

This only intrigued him more and after Stiles got off his shift at the bookstore, he headed to the clinic. The parking lot was deserted except for Deaton’s car and Scott’s bike, so Stiles made his way inside, leaning against the front desk and looking around the waiting room.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said, opening up the wooden gate that led to the exam room. “I’m happy you could make it.”

“Happy to be here,” Stiles nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and following Deaton. “So, Scott said you wanted to give me something.”

“Well, Derek’s the one who wants you to have it, but you’ll see soon that for obvious reasons he couldn’t be the one to deliver it to you personally.”

Consider him extremely intrigued.

“Derek, really?” Stiles asked. “Did he say anything else?”

“Only that it would, ‘help you out with what you talked about the other night’,” Deaton said.

Because that wasn’t cryptic in the slightest.

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, following Deaton into a supplies room. “Is Scott here?”

“He’s organizing some files for me in my office,” Deaton said. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“Oh, okay, thanks,” Stiles nodded.

Deaton then proceeded to look through a large box that was shoved in the corner of the supplies room. Stiles stood awkwardly behind him, trying to occupy himself by looking around the room but coming up short with interesting things to look at. There were towers of cardboard boxes, all having different labels written in neat print. The boxes had typical labels to the veterinary clinic, but one reading “ _HEX BOOKS_ ” caught his attention.

“Here we are,” Deaton said, bringing Stiles attention back to him.

He turned and – “Holy God!” – promptly backed up into a pile of cardboard boxes. They wobbled slightly, but didn’t fall over.

Deaton had a mild expression on his face and looking awfully calm for holding a staff in his hands. It looked like it had just come out of a _Final Fantasy_ game, slim and decorated with carvings in the dark blue stained wood.

“What is-?”

“Mountain ash,” Deaton said, holding it out to Stiles. “Derek is right in thinking that you need to protect yourself, Stiles. You can’t exactly carry a gun on you when you go to school, so this is the next best thing.”

“Because a staff isn’t inconspicuous at all.”

Deaton then sighed, pressing his finger against a button on the bottom of the staff. It retracted instantly, keeping the same circumference, but becoming as tall as a typical textbook. It’d be easy to stash in his backpack.

“I don’t know how to use one of those,” Stiles said, taking it from Deaton’s hands when it was offered anyway. “I’m the sheriff’s kid, I can shoot a gun, but this is way out of my league."

“Derek said he’d teach you,” Deaton said. “With a normal staff of course, his skin would burn if he touched this.”

_Oh._

This was the perfect weapon against a werewolf, wasn’t it? Right now he was completely clueless, but even if he got attacked he still had a chance to injure a werewolf and make an escape. And if he actually mastered how to fight with the staff he could actually do some damage.

It was kind of perfect and he didn’t know what it meant that Derek of all people thought about it for him. He also didn’t know what that made him feel that Derek thought about it so much.

“Are you willing to learn?” Deaton asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, looking down at the retracted staff in his hands. “I am.”

**OoOoOoO**

Of course learning meant spending all of his free time with Derek in his underground lair (i.e. abandoned subway station). Derek claimed that he was looking at lofts and Stiles sure hoped so. This place had mold and even though breathing it in didn’t affect Derek, it probably affected Stiles.

The mold wasn’t the only thing affecting Stiles though. Derek was the only one Stiles saw in the station since Peter was off doing God knows what and Isaac was spending all of his free time with Scott. So, Stiles saw a lot of Derek… and Derek’s body. After Lydia had been cleared from his mind Stiles accepted that yeah, guys were hot too.

And Derek Hale was like the Lydia Martin of male hotness.

Apparently green eyes were a recurring thing for him.

He knew that he was there for a reason. He was supposed to be learning how to fight and defend himself. Stiles didn’t want to be a liability anymore, he didn’t want to have to run away when things got tough. And if spending all of his time with Derek Hale being sweaty (and not in the way that he wanted to spend time sweating with Derek Hale), then so be it.

This had been going on for about a week and just when he started to get the hang of it, it all started to slowly go bad.

Today was a bad day, both for his skill level and for Derek’s mood.

“We’ve been over this a thousand times, Stiles,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“A thousand times, really?” Stiles asked. “I think it’s been three.”

“That’s two times too many.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asked, outstretching his arms. “I mean, _really_? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m 16 years-old and I’m skinny and awkward and I trip over my own feet more often than not. It’s a fuckin’ miracle that I can hold this thing properly, so don’t expect me to start blocking everything you throw at me on my first try just because you’re the Alpha and you’re _just so knowledgeable_.”

Derek blinked at him, looking from Stiles’ hands to the practice staff in his hands (because Derek refused to come within a ten-foot radius of his mountain ash one) and then back to Stiles.

“You’re right.”

What.

“What,” Stiles said.

“You’re right,” Derek repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “I shouldn’t—you’re not a wolf, you’re human and so, you’re so _breakable_ , Stiles.”

“Then teach me how to not be breakable,” Stiles sighed.

Derek nodded and then stepped toward him, walking behind him, and then folding his hands over Stiles’.

“Oh God,” Stiles said. “This is like in every movie ever when the guy tries to teach the girl how to hit a baseball or swing a golf club.”

Despite the cheesy and cliché factor, Stiles was still trying to play it cool (well, as cool as he was capable of playing it). Derek could probably hear his pounding heart and feel the heat radiating from his cheeks or something.

“Your posture’s good,” Derek said, warm air tickling his neck and dipping into his ear. “Your grip’s too tight though. You need to stop being so worried of dropping it and focus more on actually moving it.”

“How’d you learn all of this?” Stiles asked. “You’ve been a werewolf forever, you don’t really need to know how to fight with any kind of weapon.”

“Growing up I had human cousins who lived in the house,” Derek said. “The adults didn’t want to make them feel left out when they trained, so all of the werewolf kids took lessons with them.”

“One big happy family, huh?”

“We weren’t always happy,” Derek said. “But we were…we were family.”

Stiles’ heart had calmed down, but it was still beating strongly. Not with nervousness or arousal, but with sadness and compassion and _understanding_. He didn’t lose everyone he’d ever loved like Derek had, but he had lost his mom and it had felt like he had lost his entire world.

“Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you-?” Stiles started, trying to find the right words to say. “You’re not my brother or my cousin or my friend or my Alpha or whatever. We’re kind of just acquaintances. So, why do you care so much? Why are you helping me?”

He could feel Derek shrugging behind him. “Because I don’t want you getting hurt.”

There wasn’t much talking after that. After about an hour of Derek charging at him and critiquing almost everything that he did, the training session was brought to a close. Stiles headed to the shower (and he still didn’t want to know how Derek got a shower in the place), set on taking a quick one and then heading home. Lacrosse training started tomorrow and he wanted to be well rested for it.

After taking a quick shower and changing into a clean t-shirt and pair of jeans, Stiles headed into the room outside of the shower. It was where Derek slept and there was nothing there except for an air mattress and a few bags of clothes and personal belongings. It all felt so sad and empty. The room was a constant reminder that Derek was alone and orphaned and just trying his best.

The temptation to go through the bags was always there though. Derek had poked around his room on numerous occasions and Stiles had never complained that often about it. He was pretty tolerant about Derek looking through his stuff since there wasn’t anything there that was overly personal. Derek had already found the porn stash on his laptop (that was filling up with a lot more guy-on-guy than anything else). He had just shrugged and said that he didn’t care.

Stiles didn’t have anything to hide from Derek and he liked that. He had lied so much to his dad lately and Scott still didn’t know that he was attracted to guys. It was nice to have one person he could just be open to.

He just never expected Derek to mean this much to him.

Stiles sat down on the edge of the air mattress, towel drying his recently grown-out hair and looking at the bags in front of him. It would only be fair to look through them, but it felt almost too personal. Everything that was in those bags was everything that Derek had left in the world and Stiles didn’t think he was ready for that.

“You can go ahead.”

Derek was standing in the doorway, his wife beater having magically disappeared (no complaints) and his arms folded across his chest.

“I wasn’t going to—.”

“I know,” Derek said, taking a seat next to Stiles on the mattress. “But you can.”

Stiles nodded, leaning forward to take one of the bags. He opened it only to be assaulted by a particularly foul smell. “Dude, what do you have in here?”

“Dirty laundry,” Derek laughed, closing the bag for Stiles. “I’m going to the Laundromat tomorrow.”

“I can’t picture you at a Laundromat.”

Derek just shrugged, nodding toward the next bag. Stiles took it and opened it to see clean clothes, all folded and neutral colors. “Just clothes in here or is this where you stash your diary too?”

“Dead bodies as well,” Derek said. “Gotta be unexpected.”

Stiles grinned at that, taking the final bag. It made a variety of different sounds as he pulled it toward him. The other twos bags had just contained clothes, but this one contained objects and trinkets and things that were Derek’s and probably his family’s as well.

He didn’t want to open it, but Derek was sitting next to him with a hand on the small of his back and his eyes focused unblinkingly on the bag. Stiles opened it and saw a stack of comic books. He raised an eyebrow and Derek scratched the back of his neck, smiling in an uncharacteristically shy manner.

“No,” Stiles said, taking the comic books from the bag and placing them on his lap. “No, Derek Hale is not a comic book nerd.”

“Guilty.”

“Holy God, this is enough blackmail for years,” Stiles said, his goofy smile growing as he looked through the different issues. “You have the original Wonder Woman? This is insane, these are all in perfect conditions, they’re fake.”

“They’re not.”

“Yeah, but how do you know?”

“I always got them authenticated before I bought them,” Derek said. “Before the fire, Laura used to take me. There was a comic book store in the mall and while she would shop with her friends I would just… read.”

“That’s so lame,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself.

He winced, wishing that he could take it back. Derek was opening up to him and he had just made fun of him. _Way to go, Stilinski._

“Yeah,” Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “But that’s what I did.”

“I can’t picture you doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re… _you_ ,” Stiles said, gesturing to Derek. “You’ve got the whole ‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome’ thing going on.”

“Not when I was 16,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I was a lot like you.”

“ _Right_.”

“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” Derek asked. “I was a teenager once too. I didn’t have a lot of friends and I liked being alone. I read comic books and jerked off to gay porn. We’re not that different.”

He had a point. Stiles had never really thought about Derek before he had met him for that first time in the woods. He had never thought of Derek the socially awkward teenager or Derek who was surrounded by family or—.

Wait.

“You jerked off to gay porn?”

“Is that seriously all you got out of that?”

“No, it’s just that—,” Stiles started. “You’re, I mean _you…_ You’re into dudes?”

“Yeah,” Derek shrugged. “Is that a problem?”

“What, no,” Stiles said. “Are you kidding? I’m totally into dudes too, so just, y’know, keep doing what you’re doing.”

Derek looked like he was about to laugh at him (and Stiles wouldn’t blame him either), so Stiles reached into the bag in front of him and took out the next object he could grab.

It was a box of condoms.

Stiles tossed it behind him before reaching into the bag again.

Derek was looking progressively more amused by the second, but Stiles just ignored him. The next thing he took out of the bag was an old worn pilot’s jacket. It was worn in a way that only time and wear could do, not being put on a hanger in a store and being made to look like it was older than it was.

“Laura’s,” Derek said. “It was her favorite jacket.”

“I’ve got one of my mom’s scarves in my sock drawer.”

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“Dude, out of context that sounds so creepy.”

“And what context is it in?”

“The context of you making it your mission in life to know where everything is in my room.”

“I like knowing my surroundings.”

“Knowing your surroundings doesn’t have to be so detailed that you know what kind of porn I have on my computer.”

“Why do you keep bringing up porn?”

“I’m a 16 year-old guy, what do you expect me to bring up?”

Derek just shook his head, a small smile on his face as he curled a hand around the worn leather of Laura’s jacket. Stiles placed a hand over his, not exactly knowing what he was doing but not exactly wanting to stop either.

“What are we doing?” Stiles asked.

His eyes met Derek’s and they were just looking at each other and then Derek’s mouth was being pressed against his. He had strangely been expecting it. It felt easy and natural which was weird because Stiles never thought kissing would be like that. He’d never kissed anyone before and he had expected his first to be sloppy and for his lips to get sticky from strawberry lip gloss.

But this was smooth and slow and he was more than happy to let Derek take his face in his hands and guide him through it all. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he kept them in his lap, making sure the jacket and comic books didn’t fall to the floor. Derek opened his mouth and slipped his tongue inside and slid it against Stiles’. His hands gripped the jacket and comic books tighter and he knew that his pounding heart was probably giving Derek a headache, but that didn’t stop him from moving even closer and moving his tongue with Derek’s.

It was good and Stiles was beginning to understand why Scott had been so obsessed with doing it with Allison when Derek pulled back. Stiles made a (completely manly) noise of protest. Derek’s forehead was pressed against the crook of his neck and Stiles felt him exhale deeply.

“You’re 16.”

“Nope,” Stiles said, putting the jacket and comic books on the air mattress next to him and turning to face Derek. “Nope.”

“Stiles, you’re underage.”

“Yeah and you’re a werewolf and I’ve almost been killed at least five times and I’ve saved your life at least ten and I… I want this,” Stiles said.

“Us wanting this and the law approving of this are two different things.”

“We kissed.”

“I want to do more than just kiss you.”

Oh. Well. Shit.

“And I don’t want other people touching you.”

“I don’t want other people touching you either.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“You’re still underage.”

“And we’re back to square one,” Stiles groaned.

“Stiles this is complicated,” Derek sighed.

“I don’t care,” Stiles said, moving toward him.

“I could go to jail for this.”

“I won’t let them take you away.”

“Your dad would shoot me.”

“It’s a good thing regular bullets won’t kill you.”

“They still hurt like hell.”

“I’ll kiss them and make them better.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

Stiles kissed Derek then and let him press him against the mattress, choosing to forget about everything else for that moment.

**OoOoOoO**

They didn’t have sex. Well, they didn’t have _sex_ sex. Making out was an activity that they both participated in quite enthusiastically. One minute Derek was telling him how much of an idiot he was and how even the lowliest of omegas would be able to attack him if he didn’t correct his stance, and the next minute Derek would be on top of him, fucking his mouth with his tongue and rutting against him.

Stiles had started to bring two changes of pants with him.

Training still happened and Stiles was getting progressively better. He was also getting better at kissing and hand jobs and his first blowjob attempt might not have gone too smoothly, but by attempt #6 he was practically a pro. It was just so easy with Derek, something he never thought would be possible. He could just kiss him when he wanted to or slip his hand down his pants when he wanted to (well, maybe not whenever he wanted to, but Derek was pretty open about it).

Of course the fact that Stiles was underage still played a factor. Derek never wanted to take things too far and Stiles was okay with that. Kind of. He would have been more than happy to let Derek fuck him into next week (and Derek probably wanted to), but holding back seemed to be the appropriate thing to do.

School started in a week and with lacrosse summer practices and training with Derek and carrying heavy boxes at the bookstore (a lot more effort than you’d think was put into that), Stiles found himself not wanting to move more often than not. When he was doing these activities he was fine, but as soon as he got home all he could think about was his bed and sleep.

That wasn’t any different for tonight either. He had had lacrosse practice all morning and then a shift at the bookstore and then meeting Derek at his new loft (it had a spiral staircase—Stiles had been impressed) to train. After eating takeout with Derek and a heavy session of groping, he had gotten into his Jeep and driven home and then had practically crawled out of his Jeep and inside and into his bed.

His dad was out on a date with Ms. McCall and Scott had asked if he wanted to come over to play video games, but Stiles was half-dead. Scott knew about Derek helping Stiles learn how to fight, but was still very much in the dark when it came to the other activities they partook in together.

It was only nine o’clock, but that didn’t stop Stiles from pulling the covers around him and falling asleep almost instantly.

When he opened his eyes again it was 11 and there was a dark figure hovering over him and _shit._

Stiles reached behind him, hand closing around the retracted staff that was on the shelving. He pressed the button on the bottom and it stretched out to its full length. Claws were moving toward him and Stiles grabbed the staff in two hands before sitting up and shoving outward, connecting with a neck.

A half-shout reached his ears and he tried to get out of bed, but his legs were wrapped in the sheets and he felt like he weighed five times his weight due to exhaustion. His heart was pounding in his ears and he braced himself against his mattress, staff protecting the width of his chest.

The lamp next to his bed turned on and Derek was standing there, one knee on his bed and looking down at him.

“I’ve seen worse.”

“You asshole,” Stiles groaned, retracting the staff and placing it back on the shelving. “You incredible _asshole_.”

“Your first attack was good,” Derek said, ignoring Stiles’ comments. “But then you let exhaustion and your bed sheets get the best of you. Now you’re just lying there almost completely defenseless with your legs spread.”

Stiles was about to give a retort when he saw the burn on Derek’s neck. He sat up and motioned for Derek to sit down on the bed. Derek did and Stiles cupped his hand on the burn. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said. “It’ll heal.”

“You don’t need to burn any wolf’s bane powder and rub it in there?”

“No,” Derek said. “The bullet was in the bloodstream, this—.”

“Is just a flesh wound?” Stiles asked, grinning despite it all.

Derek let out a laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Stiles nodded. “So, uh, did I pass?”

“Pass what?”

“Well clearly this was a test,” Stiles said. “Did I pass?”

“Depends,” Derek shrugged. “How were you going to continue if it hadn’t been me?”

“No clue.”

“Consider it a fail.”

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, lying back on his bed. “I’m tired.”

“I know.”

“My limbs feel like they’re a thousand pounds.”

“I know.”

“I just want to sleep.”

“I know.”

Stiles glared at him and Derek just shrugged, leaning over to switch Stiles’ lamp back off. “Sleep.”

“Stay?”

He was happy that Derek had turned the light off because he really didn’t want to look at Derek when he got rejected. But soon he heard the rustling of clothes and then there was a dip in the mattress, Derek’s arm wrapped around his middle and pulled his back to his chest.

“Are we actually spooning right now?”

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

Arguing was something that he was tempted to do, but he was still tired and felt ridiculously heavy and Derek was like his own personal heater against his back. Almost instantly he was in a deep sleep and practically dead to the world. His dreams were abstract and vague and he was too tired to even pay attention to them. It felt like sleep was finally starting to restore him when he woke up for the second time.

The clock read one o’clock and he groaned, lying face down into his pillow.

“What’s wrong?” Derek mumbled.

“Woke up,” Stiles said.

“Just go back to sleep,” Derek said, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles’ back.

Derek’s voice was heavy with sleep and Stiles knew that he had woken him up as well. He turned his head to look at Derek whose head was sharing the pillow. His eyes were half-lidded as his hand continued to move against Stiles’ back.

“Can’t,” Stiles said.

“Sure you can.”

Stiles knew that Derek was trying to be supportive of Stiles getting his rest, but the hand on his back said differently. They weren’t soothing rubs that a parent would give to their kid when they couldn’t sleep, but strokes that made Stiles’ stomach warm and dick twitch interestedly in his boxers.

It was like Derek was kneading his flesh, massaging it and getting all of the tensions out. It was good, almost ridiculously so and Stiles let out a little moan when Derek’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his boxers.

Derek probably knew what he was doing to Stiles. If Scott could smell arousal, then there was no doubt that Derek was practically getting slapped with it. Stiles’ hands gripped his sheets, turning his face into his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. He was sleepy and exhausted and so stupidly turned on that this wasn’t going to end well.

Or it could end ridiculously well.

Negotiations were still up for both.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice sounding like he was starting to wake up. “Do you want to sleep or do you want to—?”

“Both,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow.

Sleep was good, sleep was great, but going to sleep half-hard was never a good idea. The mattress shifted next to him and soon both of Derek’s hands were on him, working on his shoulders. Stiles burrowed his face into his pillow, biting his bottom lip, and holding in a soft groan. Derek had magic hands and he was completely content on surrendering to them.

He was just about to fall back asleep, right on the edge where he didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming, when stubble brushed against his neck and there was hot breath in his ear. “What do you want?”

Who needed sleep anyway?

“Anything,” Stiles said, his voice heavy and drowsy. “Go crazy.”

Derek let out a low chuckle at that, pressing his lips against Stiles’ neck. “I can do that.”

Stiles just nodded as Derek moved away from his neck. He trusted Derek and he knew that he would only do things to make him feel good. And right now he was tired and horny and it was nice to have Derek take care of that instead of having to half-heartedly hump his own hand.

His shirt was pushed up and warm hands were now making contact with his actual flesh. Thumbs were being worked into his skin and lips were ghosting over his back, just barely making contact. Stiles grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it on the floor before returning to his previous position. He could hear Derek practically humming in approval as biting kisses were made against his spine.

Everything was warm and heavy and it felt like he was being drugged. His exhaustion, mixed with Derek’s hands and mouth on him, were making everything seem like an incredibly vivid wet dream. It still baffled him that Derek wanted to be with him of all people (even though technically they weren’t exactly together), but he never questioned it. He wanted this and Derek wanted it and who was he to question that?

Especially with Derek’s mouth pressed against his lower back and his fingers hooked on the waistband of Stiles’ boxers. “Lift up for me.”

“‘Kay,” Stiles nodded into his pillow, lifting his hips enough for Derek to slide his boxers over his ass and off of his legs before joining his t-shirt on the floor.

Normally Stiles would have been self-conscious, but this entire thing felt like a dream. A very warm and hazy and pleasurable dream. He was completely naked in front of Derek and even though Derek had seen everything before he still felt awkward and vulnerable. But right now it just didn’t matter.

Derek’s hands moved to his ass, kneading the skin, thumbs barely brushing right down the crack. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed.

Derek had never touched him there before, but they both knew that Stiles had touched himself. He was bisexual and 16 and curious and it felt great. There was no shame in it, but there was something just so intimate about someone else touching him there, about Derek touching him there.

“Sure?” Derek asked again.

“Positive,” Stiles mumbled, turning his head slightly and wiggling around to get more comfortable. His hard cock brushed against the sheets and he let out a low groan, rutting down on the mattress more. “Knock yourself out.”

He heard Derek inhale sharply at that, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. His dick was now rubbing against the sheets and he didn’t even care that he probably looked ridiculous and shameless. The friction was great and he was pretty sure he wasn’t even in his right mind. Derek’s hands grabbed his hips and forced him to stop moving. He was about to voice protest when his cheeks were being spread apart and something warm and wet was sliding against his hole.

His mouth opened and his eyes fluttered and a strangled groan escaped from him. Fingers were one thing, but that was a _tongue_ and it was—oh God. It was foreign and different and just _so fucking good_. Stiles’ hands clutched his sheets tighter, shifting on the bed slightly and feeling the wetness of pre-cum against his skin. Derek hadn’t even touched his cock and he was already leaking and he didn’t know what that said about him, but fuck if he cared.

Derek’s tongue was massaging just over his hole, getting caught in the rim occasionally and giving a small tug with his tongue. It was hot and _wet_ and maddening and all Stiles could do was just lie there and take it. Just take what Derek was giving him with his tongue and lips.

“You okay?” Derek asked, his mouth still pressed against Stiles, lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

“Yeah, fuck, don’t stop.”

Apparently Derek didn’t have any plans to because hands were spreading him open even more and then a tongue was darting _into_ him and _oh fuckfuckfuck Jesus H. Christ._ Stiles knew that he was breathing heavy and these moans and groans and fuckin’ whines and whimpers were escaping from him along with Derek’s name.

But he was the most aware of the fact that he was _shaking_. His thighs and shoulders and hands all seemed to be vibrating. Everything lick or dart of Derek’s tongue was slowly unraveling him, making him shake and want to just fall apart at the seams. Saliva was running down his crack and over his balls and his dick was still hard and leaking and aching. _He_ was aching. Everything was warm and wet and _Derek_.

Stiles was realizing that he could probably come just like that when Derek moved away from him. He let out a noise, wanting to tell Derek to get his mouth back to his ass, but lacking the words and energy to do so. Derek ran a hand down his back as he moved up the bed. A drawer was opened and a hand ran through his sweat damp hair, a kiss pressed against his temple.

He registered the noise of a cap being opened and he knew where this was going right before a finger worked its way inside of him. It was long and broader and strong and familiar, but so different from his own.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles groaned.

He was exhausted, but awake finally. Everything was still hazy and he still felt heavy but he also felt so warm and good. Derek always had a way of making him feel good.

As the single finger worked its way in and out of him, avoiding his prostate and just slowly working him open, something hot and heavy was draped over his back. Stiles turned his head, opening his eyes to see Derek pressing kisses onto his shoulder.

“How many have you taken before?” Derek asked, his voice deep and absolutely _wrecked_ even though Stiles hadn’t even laid a hand on him.

“Two,” Stiles said, swallowing hard and clutching the sheets tighter.

Derek made a low hum in acknowledgment before starting to pump the finger in and out of him. Even though Stiles had done this to himself numerous times it still felt different when Derek did it. It was faster and rougher and deeper and _better._ Derek was nuzzling Stiles’ neck now, whispering things that Stiles couldn’t hear and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin as he pushed another finger inside of Stiles.

Lengthwise their fingers were about the same but there was no doubt that Derek’s were broader. Stiles felt fuller than he ever had and once the burn of the stretch faded off it started to feel impossibly good. Derek was still paying attention to his neck as Stiles started to thrust back onto his fingers. He couldn’t help but imagine what Derek’s dick would feel like and he wouldn’t lie and say that the thought didn’t excite him and terrify him at the same time. The thought just seemed so intimate, so much more intimate than what he and Derek were, well at least he thought.

He didn’t want to think about anything at that moment though. All he wanted was to think about Derek’s mouth and stubble against his throat and heavy, warm weight against his back, and fingers delving deep inside of him. The haziness was still there and everything was feeling so _fuckin’ perfect_. His balls were started to tightened and his stomach had a familiar warmness curling up inside of it and his breath was coming out in short, wet gasps.

Just when he was about to let go and give into his release, another finger was pressed against his entrance. Stiles stilled, slight panic coming over him.

“Derek, I- I can’t.”

“You will,” Derek said, pushing the finger into Stiles’ entrance.

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head against his pillow. “Derek, I’ve never—.”

“Trust that I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

He did. Of course Stiles trusted Derek to not hurt him. He had let the older man take his clothes off and have his way with him. Derek didn’t move, running a hand up and down Stiles’ side. The silence hung heavy in the air and Stiles knew it was all up to him allowing it or not. He was still achingly hard and almost desperate for his release.

“Okay,” Stiles nodded. “Yeah, just—go slow.”

“Course,” Derek said, kissing the back of Stiles’ neck before slipping the third finger inside of Stiles.

It burned and stretched him so open, but it was a good kind of burn. The pain was still there, just under the surface, but the feeling of being full was kind of amazing. He let out a low groan, shaking his head against his pillow. It was almost too much and Stiles was about to voice that when Derek’s tongue licked around his fingers, around Stiles’ stretched rim.

“ _Oh God_ ,” Stiles groaned, moving back to meet Derek’s fingers and tongue. “Oh, _fuck_.”

The tongue lapping at him was a great distraction from the fingers in his ass. Soon the pain was gone, replaced by a burning fullness and the wet slide of Derek’s fingers in and out of his ass. Stiles was biting his bottom lip, trying not to voice all of the ridiculous noises and phrases he would undoubtedly end up saying. He was starting to shake again, practically tremble with every movement of Derek’s fingers, whether it was a smooth slide or a crooking against his prostate.

It was all starting to build up again, the tightening in his balls, the warmth in his stomach. It was all too much and not enough at the same time, he thought he could come like this, but he couldn’t and—.

A warm hand moved between him and the mattress and wrapped around his cock and with just one pump he was gone. It crashed on him as he let out a strangled groan of Derek’s name, panting against his pillow and his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. He was still trembling, hands having wrinkled the sheets from clutching them too tightly.

“So,” Stiles said finally. “That was… _good_. That was good.”

Derek chuckled, kissing his temple. “I’m happy you liked it.”

“Definitely,” Stiles said, turning around a bit to look at him.

And _fuck_ he would have to do something about that, wouldn’t he? Derek just had his boxer briefs on and they looked even tighter than usual, the outline of his hard dick apparent and a wet spot visible on the dark fabric.

“Derek, let me—,” he started.

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head and pulling down his underwear.

The sight of Derek’s dick made Stiles regret not asking for Derek to fuck him. Because Stiles wasn’t a poetic man, but he could right sonnets about how in love he was with Derek’s thick, uncut cock.

It was starting to get a little unhealthy.

He knew that three fingers would be nothing to that filling him up and he wanted it, God he wanted it, but right now he was tired and achy and _sticky_. Derek could fuck him next time or the time after that.

“Lie back down on your stomach,” Derek said. “Lift your hips up and spread your legs for me.”

Stiles did as he was told, hearing the opening of the lube once again. He knew that Derek wasn’t going to fuck him, he was 99.99% positive of that, but he still didn’t know what- _oh_.

Derek’s dick was sliding in between his thighs, brushing against his balls with every stroke. His hands were gripping Stiles’ hips tightly and he leaned forward, breath hot against Stiles’ neck.

“Fuck you got me so hard,” Derek groaned, hips stuttering as he continued to thrust. “You’re so responsive and you never stop moving or making noises. So _fuckin’_ perfect.”

Stiles would have protested that he was incredibly far from perfect, but it was difficult with Derek’s dick brushing against his balls. Everything felt so oversensitive and hot and way too much.

“No idea what you do to me,” Derek continued, his pace increasing. “You’re so fuckin’ oblivious and God, I just want to fuck you. When I do I’m going to do it in front of a mirror and you’re going to have to look at how fuckin’ gorgeous you are. See how much you drive me crazy.”

Stiles wanted to voice how much of a terribly embarrassing idea that was, but then Derek let out a harsh groan. The grip on Stiles’ hips tightened and he came, cum hitting Stiles’ skin and the sheets below him.

Derek moved away from him for a second, allowing Stiles to flip over on his back and collapse onto his bed. The sheets were sticky with sweat and cum, but he didn’t care. He was in so much need of sleep and he knew that his dad would be waking him up early for lacrosse practice and—.

“My dad,” Stiles said as Derek laid down on top of Stiles.

“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Derek said, his voice still heavy and panting as he rested his forehead against Stiles’.

“No, he should be home—.”

“Not here,” Derek said. “Scott is with Isaac at the loft, so I’m assuming your dad and Ms. McCall-.”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Derek smirked at him, but didn’t say anything, pressing his lips against Stiles’. “In other news, you were amazing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, reaching up to move a lock of sweat-matted hair from Derek’s forehead. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything,” Derek said. “I’ll clean up, you need sleep.”

After Derek managed to get Stiles out of bed, he took the sheets from the bed and brought a pile of blankets and Stiles’ sleeping bag onto the floor. He made a makeshift bed from the pile and Stiles curled up in it, half-awake when Derek came back with a warm washcloth to clean him up. He was vaguely aware of Derek turning off the lamp and bringing him into his arms.

With the Alpha Pack and the chance of losing Scott’s friendship to Isaac and lacrosse and his part-time job and AP classes when school started and lying to his dad, Stiles was happy that he had Derek. He didn’t have to lie to Derek or be embarrassed around him.

He could just be himself and, for now, that was more than he could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Just one more auction piece after this and I'm done!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and kudos/bookmark/comment if you feel like it! :))


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